


Long Day in the Office

by carnivaldreams



Series: Nightmares vs Fantasies [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, I actually wrote something that is considered fluff, This is a first, drabble-ish length
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:16:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnivaldreams/pseuds/carnivaldreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This was always hotter in my fantasies,” Oliver commented with a muffled yawn as Felicity shook him awake to hand him two pills...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Day in the Office

**Author's Note:**

> This was another drabble written out in my notebook beforehand, which is something I'll never be doing again thank you. Then it was written and edited during late nights when I couldn't sleep, so I can't decide if I'm happy with it. Never mind the fact that I never write fluff. It was a little strange.

 

“This was always hotter in my fantasies,” Oliver commented with a muffled yawn as Felicity shook him awake to hand him two pills, before she burrowed her head back into her pillow muffling her grumble. The normally very bubbly blonde wasn’t always the best morning person, the alarm clock barely read seven am and they had both suffered through a very long and restless night with Oliver’s leg.

Felicity rolled out of bed when the alarm clock started beeping incessantly for a second time that morning and glared at Oliver before shuffling into the main room of her small apartment. Without lifting his head, Oliver listened to the sounds of Felicity’s apartment that were becoming familiar and welcoming; her coffee machine whirring on, and a moment later the pipes turning over as the shower turned on. He finally lifted his head when the coast was clear, reaching for the crutches that she had leant against the wall after she had helped into bed the night before, hobbling into the kitchen to take her a peace offering of coffee in her favourite mug.

The bathroom was still steamed up when he walked in, a fluffy towel wrapped around her body, her hair freshly blow dried and pulled back into her simple ponytail as she worked on her makeup. He kissed her cheek as he set the hot drink down on the bathroom counter, his day old stubble tickling her, and sat down on the toilet seat to wrap his leg up in a garbage bag so he could shower too.

“Do I get a sponge bath?” Her ponytail whipped the air as she turned away from the mirror and he was about to mumble out an apology to avoid working alongside an angry Felicity all day long. “Later.” She surprised him, with a small smile. “Maybe. If you behave all day.” He had meetings booked solid throughout the day, which they both knew was his version of hell, but he had never been one to back down from a bet.

It was an interesting sight, the CEO of Queen Consolidated dressed in his requisite high designer business suit, hobble across the floor in crutches, his foot in a plaster cast.

Men always made the worst patients, often adopting the foetal position at the slightest hint of a head cold, but in Felicity’s opinion playboy billionaires were a special brand of difficult. They had never heard the word “no” before and they were used to getting what they wanted, when they wanted. Oliver was normally a good patient, though often unconscious or high on painkillers. She could see him suffering though as she watched the progression of meetings behind the glass wall that separated their offices.

Felicity interrupted a meeting with heads of departments that had run into lunch hour with a muttered apology and pills in hand; Oliver’s eyes were begging her to put him out of his misery. “Mr. Queen has a phone conference,” she thought about leaving him to remember he was the CEO of a major company, but ended up taking pity on him. He was injured after all.

“Are we ordering in lunch?” He asked as the last of his meeting filed out, letting his head fall to the desk.

“Already ordered your favourite Italian. It’ll be here in five. ” She rested her hip against his desk. “Your next meeting’s at one thirty.” His arm reached out and he grabbed at her hip, pulling her closer; his thumb brushing her hip softly.

“You’re a good girlfriend.” He mumbled against the glass surface.

“You’ve still got to do the meeting though.” She smiled in response. “You’re a pretty good boyfriend too, you know, when you’re not out getting injured.

After lunch, and another two meetings, Oliver was considering mutiny against his own company when Felicity appeared in the doorway again, a smile on her face that was definitely not her announcing another appointment.

“Your last meeting’s been cancelled, you have been released from all your duties.”

“Are you teasing me, Miss Smoak?” It didn’t matter, Oliver had already shut down his computer and was reaching for his crutches. If this was his one chance of escape, he wasn’t about to squander it.

Felicity feigned hurt, “why would you even suggest such a thing?” She took his briefcase from him to make the process of getting to the car just the slight bit easier. She walked ahead of him a little, staying just out of reach, the skirt of her dress swinging and brushing the back of her thighs invitingly. “Besides, I heard you had a hot date tonight.”

She heard the crutches hitting the floor at a faster pace than before as he tried to catch up to her waiting at the elevator, his front flush against her back while they waited. “Y’know,” he whispered against the skin of her neck. “A broken leg isn’t going to slow me down at all.”

Felicity turned to face him, backing into the elevator as it opened with a ping, “I think you’re going to have to show me.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
